


Flowers of Antimony

by AirbenderBigMac



Category: Tangled (2010), Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Amputee OC, Angst, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Class Differences, Drama, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot Collection, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, chapters will vary in the series timeline, probably incorrect use of science/alchemy terms, to the best of my ability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-22 19:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13770924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirbenderBigMac/pseuds/AirbenderBigMac
Summary: "Contrary to its beautiful name, flowers of antimony is the term used to describe the crystallized form of arsenic trioxide. Antimony (popular for its medicinal uses) and arsenic are known to have similar properties and were often confused by alchemists until the 19th century, exacerbated by this misleading moniker."Varian wasn't always the lonely boy he appeared to be. After the princess returns from following the rocks, a citizen of Old Corona comes forward to shed some light on the disgraced alchemist's past.





	1. Green Silk

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello, readers! This is my Tangled fic featuring my OC, Juniper. I do hope you'll be kind to her and bear with me as I take you through her past and present events/adventures with Varian and others. This first chapter will serve as a sort of entry point to introduce her in the story, and from then on it'll be mostly oneshots. I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a wardrobe malfunction turns into an opportunity to gather information.

“I don’t know much about clothes, Raps, but I’m pretty sure ball gowns aren’t supposed to look like that.”

Cassandra wrinkled her nose in distaste as Rapunzel tugged at the dress’s collar. Friedborg’s original designs for the princess’s gowns were usually impeccable, but this time something had clearly gone awry in the transition from paper to cloth. The green skirt that should’ve had a slight puff at the hips now drooped clumsily, as if the fabric was too heavy to support itself. The bodice, rather than slimming her waist, looked more like an oversized sweater with how fuzzy it was. And most alarmingly, the tight, itchy sleeves left angry red marks on the princess’s wrists.

Rapunzel looked in the full-length mirror, scratching at her neck. “I mean, it doesn’t look that bad, does it? Maybe it’s supposed to double as a winter coat.”

Cassandra frowned. “In the middle of May? I doubt it.”

She circled around Rapunzel like a hawk, trying to find some way to salvage the dress. A fluff of the petticoat? Maybe letting out the sleeves a bit? Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose; Cassandra didn’t know anything about fashion but she knew something was _wrong_.

The door to the princess’s room swung open behind them and in sauntered Eugene, looking relaxed as ever in his freshly pressed suit jacket. He looked over Rapunzel from top to bottom and quirked an eyebrow. “Yeesh. Going skiing, Blondie?”

Rapunzel groaned, resting her forehead against the mirror. “It’s supposed to be my dress for the banquet tonight.”

“Burn it.”

“Eugene!”

“I love you, Princess, but I wouldn’t wish that dress on my worst enemy.” He side-eyed Cassandra with a smirk. “Completely unrelated, would you say you two are the same size, or…”

“See?” Cassandra cut in, shooting him an icy stare. “Even Eugene knows you can’t wear that tonight. May I remind you that this is your first formal occasion since we’ve gotten back from following the rocks? We’ll just have you wear one of your other gowns.”

Eugene stretched himself out on Rapunzel’s bed like he was about to take a nap. “If I were you,” he said, yawning, “I’d go ask Friedborg what gives. She doesn’t usually drop the ball this badly.”

Rapunzel shifted uncomfortably, reaching again to scratch the back of her neck. “I don’t know, I don’t want to be rude.”

“Rude or not, I still have to send this back to her,” Cassandra sighed. “This is completely unwearable.”

“You could always send it to the guards,” Eugene murmured, throwing an arm over his eyes. “They could use it as a new method of torture.”

* * *

Despite Rapunzel’s protests, Cassandra managed to wrestle the dress off of her and made her way to the servants’ quarters to leave it with Queen Arianna’s lady-in-waiting. She scratched at the hand holding the garment and grimaced. The sooner the matter was solved, the better, as far as she was concerned.

The door to Friedborg’s room swung open immediately when Cassandra knocked and there she was, quiet and smiling as usual.

“Hello, ma’am,” Cassandra greeted her with a slight nod. She stiffly thrust the dress into her arms and Friedborg gave her a questioning look. “The princess,” she explained, trying to sound tactful, “has decided to go in a…different direction? For the banquet tonight? So she asked me to bring this to you.”

Cassandra’s superior looked over the gown, running her fingers over the itchy fabric. She knew exactly what had happened. Without a word, she crossed to the other side of the room, dumping it unceremoniously at the feet of another, younger seamstress who was working away at a sewing machine. She tapped her foot impatiently, making the girl look up with a start.

“Oh, Jun,” Cassandra said, giving her a small wave from the doorway. “I didn’t even see you there.”

Jun returned the wave with a wan smile, then awkwardly leaned from her seat to pick up the garment. As soon as her fingers brushed the cloth, Cassandra saw her face fall and turn beet-red.

“I...used wool instead of silk,” she said softly, “on a spring ball gown.”

Friedborg inclined her head in agreement, her expression unchanging.

Jun ran a hand through her hair, disengaging a few brown locks from the intricate bun the ladies in the castle staff wore. “I’m so sorry, miss,” she said, giving Cassandra a pained look, “I don’t even know what made me use wool. Miss Friedborg told me I’ve been messing up a lot lately. I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am.”

Cassandra shook her head with a grin. “Don’t worry about it, Jun,” she replied, “We all mess up sometimes. Raps can just wear another dress, it’s no big d—“

“I can remake it.”

“W-what?”

“The banquet’s tonight, right?” Jun pushed back her hair, amber eyes glinting with newfound confidence. “I can do it. This was my mistake. I know I can get it done in time. Please.”

Cassandra gaped at her. Jun was good with fabric—she’d once hemmed the bottom of Cassandra’s skirt in less than two minutes. But an entire ball gown in less than seven hours? “If...if you’re sure you can…”

Jun beamed, reaching to grab a bolt of silk without leaving her seat. “I’ll be sure to leave you plenty of time to dress the princess, miss. Just leave it to me.”

As the dressmaker spoke, Cassandra looked down and saw that she had already wound a bobbin with new thread and gotten out a fresh needle. She chuckled; clearly Jun had this under control now.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said brightly as she turned on her heel and headed towards the door. Before she left, she faced Jun and her mentor one last time.

”You know, you don’t have to keep calling me ‘miss,’” Cassandra pointed out. “Just call me Cassandra. Lord knows you’ve worked here long enough.”

Jun nodded quickly, ducking her head down as her face flushed again. “Right, of course,” she mumbled, her reply drowned out by the squeaky foot pedal of the sewing machine.

* * *

"What do you mean, you’re out?!”

Lance shrugged and continued to wipe down the bar. “Sorry, Eugene. I ran out of chicken for sandwiches like an hour ago.”

Eugene threw his head back dramatically and slumped forward on the table. After being rudely shooed out of Rapunzel’s room so she could change, he figured he had enough time to visit the Snuggly Duckling and grab a quick bite before the banquet. Instead, he found only a few thugs milling about and Lance running low on the tavern’s already sparse food supply in the back.

“I got bread!” Lance suggested, “You can have a bread sandwich!” He tapped Eugene’s head with a loaf that looked like it'd been sitting around since Ruthless Ruth was still the owner.

The only response that came from Eugene was a long, dissatisfied groan. Lance rolled his eyes and left to refill someone’s ale.

“I don’t ask for much, Lance,” Eugene whined, lifting his head like it weighed a ton.

“You ask for a lot, actually,” the taller man shot back.

“I’m a good person.”

“You were a thief up until a year and a half ago.”

“Look, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“You’re literally going to a fancy, food-filled party after this.”

Eugene threw his hands in the air. “Fine, I’m completely ungrateful and don’t deserve a fine meal from my very best friend.”

Lance returned to Eugene’s spot at the bar, pushing a half-eaten bowl of peanuts in his direction. “Bon appetit,” he said with a sly smile.

As Eugene picked at the nuts, Lance came around the counter and flopped onto the stool next to him. “But really, sorry about that,” he continued, “One of my customers recently became a regular so I have to adjust my stock. One of Hook Foot’s buddies from his mutual aid group, stopped by after working at the castle every day this week.”

Eugene cracked a smile. “How dare the Duckling get more popular? Must be the handsome devil working in the kitchen now. You missing a leg? Hand? Head? Lance has a seat for you.”

A big booming laugh came from his friend, echoing through the near-empty tavern and making Big Nose jump. “Hey, that’s pretty good,” Lance said, laughter dying down and wiping a tear from his eye, “Can I use that for a slogan?”

“That’ll cost you a lot more peanuts, my man,” he replied, throwing one in the air and missing his mouth completely.

* * *

The chirping had stopped.

Rapunzel took her hands away from her eyes and scanned the hallway in front of her. No sign of movement.

“Pascaaaaaal,” the princess sang in a hushed tone, “ready or noooot…”

It was late afternoon, nearly time to get ready for the banquet and Rapunzel was idling before Cassandra came to dress her. She still had no idea what she’d be wearing for the evening but the brunette had assured her that the whole thing was taken care of. In the meantime, she had been busying herself with her journal, repainting the mural in her room, fixing a sketch of Eugene she’d been working on for weeks, and wandering to the dining hall to oversee the banquet preparations. The servants didn’t seem to mind her weaving about until Nigel announced that guests would be arriving soon and that she should go get ready. On the way back to her room, Pascal had decided that now was the time to play hide-and-seek and leapt from her shoulder, skittering away and vanishing before she could react.

Rapunzel carefully lifted a vase of lilies, peering behind it for a trace of the chameleon. Nothing. The spirit of the game was starting to wear down on her, since she knew Cassandra would be looking for her if she wasn’t in her room. Dejected, she passed a portrait of King Gregor the Gauche and soon backtracked, looking closer at the picture. Did one of his eyes just blink? She poked at the canvas with a giggle as part of Gregor’s forehead seemed to jump off and land right in her hands.

“Found you!”

Pascal morphed back into his usual green scales with a smug look on his face. He chirruped back happily, hopping to his spot on her shoulder and hiding in her braid as she continued walking.

Rapunzel laughed again as she rounded the last corner to her quarters.  “C’mon, Pascal, we have to leave time for Cass to make any last-minute adjustments—”

She stopped about twenty feet from her bedroom door, surprised to see one of the servants waiting in front of it. Her back was turned but Rapunzel could tell that it wasn’t Cassandra. The young woman was shorter, with plaited dark brown hair she had tied back with a scarf. She wore a beige dress that threatened to clash with her tan skin and carried a large green bundle in the crook of her arm.

As Rapunzel approached her, she could see that the poor girl looked distressed, wringing the fabric in her long skirt and muttering quietly to herself. She hadn’t even noticed the princess yet, and at this point Rapunzel wasn’t sure if it was better to keep it that way or make her presence known. Her bare feet were completely muffled by the lavish carpeting as she stepped closer, finally catching a few of the words tumbling from the girl’s mouth.

“...Highness...sorry...need your help…”

“Excuse me,” Rapunzel said softly, trying not to startle her, “are you alright?” She laid a hand on her shoulder and the servant jumped, whirling around to face her.

“Y-your Highness!”

She was younger than Rapunzel initially thought, not much younger than the princess herself. Her thin, tired face appeared almost gaunt in the setting sunlight, with dark circles under kind-looking eyes that reminded the princess of warm butterscotch. Calloused, shaking hands clutched the green parcel, which Rapunzel could now see was fabric.

Her face lit up, grasping the girl’s hand and smiling gently. “Sorry, were you waiting for me?”

“Y-yes—no!” She looked petrified, seeming to have trouble standing. “No, I haven’t been here...long. I was just—I have your—“

“Raps! I was just coming to get you.”

Rapunzel turned to see Cassandra walking briskly towards her, nearly tripping over her dress in the process. Her veil was crooked and she looked winded; Rapunzel guessed she had just returned from training with the guards.

Upon seeing the two of them, Cassandra gave a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness, and Jun’s here just in time.”

The girl called Jun suddenly straightened up and held out the fabric, letting the silk unfold itself a bit so Rapunzel could see it.

“I-I was just coming to deliver this,” she said, finding her voice as she handed the gown off to the lady-in-waiting and bending into a slow curtsy, “And to apologize, your Highness, for my mistake with the first dress. It was foolish of—“

“Wait, you made this?” Rapunzel asked, examining the dress in astonishment. “Today?”

Cassandra clapped a hand on the girl’s shoulder, making her wince as she rose from her curtsy. “Raps, this is Juniper. She’s an apprentice of Friedborg’s and an incredible seamstress.”

“I’ll say!” Rapunzel exclaimed, moving past them to open her bedroom door, “I can’t believe you sewed that in—oops, sorry about the mess.”

It looked like a craft fair had exploded in the princess’s quarters. Sheets of used and blank paper littered the floor with sticks of charcoal leaving black smudges on the carpet. Small pots of paint surrounded a ladder on one wall, where Rapunzel had been redesigning her mural. A bowl of berries that had been set out for Pascal sat neglected by the windowseat.

Cassandra looked like she was going to have a heart attack, but Jun let a small laugh escape her.

Rapunzel swept some paper and pencils off a chair, grinning sheepishly. “Have a seat.”

Jun carefully maneuvered across the room, trying not to disturb anything. She seemed to relax as soon as she sat down, smoothing out her dress and looking around the room in awe.

“This isn’t so bad,” she responded. “The mess, I mean. I have a friend back home who’s _much_ worse.”

With the seamstress’s help, Rapunzel had a much easier time putting on the new dress. As the ladies admired the outfit in the mirror, Eugene breezed in, grinning from ear to ear at his girlfriend.

“Now _that’s_ a ball gown!” he shouted, lifting her up in the air and spinning her. Even Cassandra found it hard to suppress a smile, giving Jun a thumbs-up.

“Thank you so much,” Rapunzel said, taking both of Jun’s hands and squeezing them in appreciation. “You’re amazing for doing this. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

Jun’s eyes seemed to bore into hers, and just for a moment Rapunzel saw something heavy in them. Heavier than the obvious exhaustion from sewing for seven straight hours. Concern, perhaps? Or fear? She blinked and it disappeared just as quickly, replaced with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, your Highness,” she replied, “I’ll be sure to keep it in mind. But if I may, I should probably head back to Miss Friedborg.”

“Be careful,” Eugene called out, “Watch out for the mess.”

Jun took a step back to give Rapunzel a short bow when her legs suddenly slid out from under her and she was on the floor with a rather loud thud. Cassandra gasped as she and Rapunzel immediately went to help her up.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” the princess fretted, “I didn’t expect paper would be so slip—”

Rapunzel fell quiet and stared at Jun, not quite sure what she was seeing. The dressmaker, in turn, closed her eyes, knowing exactly what she was seeing. Cassandra scrambled to pull Jun upright, hoping that Eugene hadn’t seen or wouldn’t say anything. He had, and he did.

“ _Chicken thief!_ ”

Cassandra nearly dropped her.

Eugene pointed at Jun. Or rather, at her exposed leg from where her skirt had hiked up during the fall. Instead of skin, her right leg seemed to be composed of mostly polished wood, with joints made of brass, steel, and some other kind of metal. Rapunzel looked curiously at it; she had seen plenty of hooks and other limb replacements at the Snuggly Duckling, but nothing so intricate as this. It was practically a work of art, functioning as a near-perfect body part.

With a huff, Cassandra pulled Jun to her feet and glared at Eugene. “I don’t want to know how your mind works, Fitzherbert,” she chided him.

Rapunzel remained sitting on the floor, deep in thought. Jun stood over her, giving another awkward curtsy with a mumbled apology, and started hurrying to the door. Something seemed to click in place for the princess: her jumpiness, the haunted look in her eyes, the mechanical wonder she hid from them…

“Juniper,” she said to her retreating form, “do you know Varian?”

Jun’s hand was on the doorknob but she didn’t turn it. She refused to look at any of them. Rapunzel drew herself to her full height, standing as straight and regally as she could.

“Please look at us.” She tried to make it sound like an order but felt her voice wavering. “I promise you’re not in trouble. We just want to know.”

A shaky sigh escaped from Jun as she let go and faced the trio, her countenance as pale as a ghost and her eyes wide in panic. That was all the answer Rapunzel needed.

“Cass, sit her down. She looks like she might faint.”

Cassandra complied instantly, guiding Jun to a chair. She exchanged a look with Rapunzel and the young royal reluctantly nodded.

“My parents need me at the banquet,” she explained to the seamstress. “You can go when you’re feeling better, but I’m asking you to join us tomorrow to answer a few questions. Are you okay with that?”

Jun stared up at her, dazed. She swallowed hard and nodded, looking back down at her trembling hands.

Beckoning to Eugene to follow her, Rapunzel made her way out of the room. He looked stunned, both at the turn of events and his better half’s behavior towards it, but moved to accompany her.

“I’m surprised,” he said cheekily, “She doesn’t seem like the type to run with someone who kidnaps royals and tries to destroy Corona.”

Rapunzel elbowed him in the ribs, making him yelp in pain. Jun’s hands balled into fists, eyes still downcast.

“He was different when I knew him,” she replied, choosing her words carefully and keeping her voice remarkably level, “Varian...wasn’t always like this.”

Rapunzel nodded, a wisp of a smile on her face. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are lovely but comments are nicer!
> 
> My inbox is always open at thefatesdesign.tumblr.com, if you'd like to drop by!


	2. Mutual Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the past begins to come to light, and an old friendship rekindles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Greetings, readers! I'm blown away by the reception the first chapter has gotten, thank you so much! The first half of this chapter wound up being a continuation of the previous one, and the last half is our first of many snapshots into Varian and Jun's lives in Old Corona. I do hope you'll enjoy! ONWARD!

“She’s two minutes late,” Eugene blurted out. “Clearly she’s made a run for it.”

Rapunzel looked up at him from her bed, closing her journal with a snap. She chuckled. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that.”

Stealing a glance at his feet, Eugene could already see the rug starting to discolor from his boots walking on it for the last ten minutes. The maids were going to have a grand time dealing with that.

Cassandra tisked from her chair and kept polishing the sword in front of her, looking more at-home in her brown shirt and pants than her lady-in-waiting garb. “I told you she’s here, didn’t I?” she scoffed. “I saw her early this morning. She said she’ll be up here as soon as she can.”

“As soon as she can what?” he countered, his pacing even more fervent. “As soon as she can let her little prison buddy know we’re onto her and catch the next ship outta here? How exactly do we know we can trust her?”

“For one thing,” the princess said thoughtfully, “she had plenty of time to disappear last night during the banquet. None of us could have stopped her then.”

Cassandra let out a snort. “Disappearing sounded pretty good last night. How many deviled eggs did you eat, Eugene? Your mouth fumes almost knocked out half the royal court.”

“Well by all means, she can take her sweet time,” he huffed, pausing to check his breath. “It’s not like we have anything important to do for this kingdom.” Eugene crossed his arms, leaning against the wall like a scolded child.

“You don’t,” Cassandra mumbled, buffing out a particularly stubborn scratch on her blade.

“Cass,” Rapunzel warned.

Her lady-in-waiting stood up, giving a few practice swings and lunges with the sword. “Besides,” she continued, “gathering intel on an enemy _is_ important. The better we can understand them, the easier they are to crack.” She punctuated the last word with an intimidating chop in front of Eugene’s nose, making him flinch.

“Crack?” Rapunzel repeated faintly, her expression clouding over as she nervously twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “He...Varian was our friend, Cass. He was a good person at one point. Are we just going to completely ignore that?”

As if on cue, Cassandra suddenly winced in pain, losing her balance and bringing down her sword to lean on its hilt. The princess fell quiet, remembering the injuries she sustained from Varian’s automatons, and gently steered her back to her chair.

“Yes,” she hissed through clenched teeth, gripping her side where her ribs were still healing.

Rapunzel opened her mouth to object but was stopped by the sound of the door opening behind her. Three pairs of eyes darted in its direction as Jun poked her head in the room.

“Excuse me,” she said, looking rather embarrassed, “I suppose I should have knocked.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Rapunzel replied, making sure Cassandra was comfortable before approaching her. She was relieved to see that the girl seemed less nervous, although she looked as if she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

Jun gave one of her teetering curtseys and an uneasy smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, your Highness. Miss Friedborg insisted that I finish my work from yesterday. Also the stairs coming up here were...difficult.”

Rapunzel mentally kicked herself and gestured for her to rest on the chaise lounge. Jun accepted and gratefully sat down in the chair with a long, relieved sigh.

“Okay,” Eugene griped, “anyone else we’re seating today? Can I get anyone a refreshing beverage? Foot massage? Complimentary gift basket?”

Cassandra shot him a look and turned to Jun. “Actually,” she asked, “I wonder if you need to take a load off? I figure that thing gets pretty heavy.”

Jun blushed and looked to the princess, who was nodding vigorously, almost excitedly. Turning from the others for modesty’s sake, she reached under her staff uniform and fiddled around with the prosthesis for a moment. With a soft thunk, the leg detached itself and fell to the floor, her skirt collapsing around her knee.

Eugene nearly leapt out of his skin at the sight. “Whoa, okay!” he hollered, voice jumping up an octave. “Thought I was ready for that, I was wrong.”

“Incredible,” Rapunzel breathed, running her hand over the false limb in amazement. The craftsmanship was outstanding, carved out of dark oak and fitted with fine leather straps to secure it around the thigh. The metal joints, while a little clumsy and indelicate, articulated the ankle in two places, allowing for ease of movement. The foot was even fashioned to fit snugly into Jun’s shoe with no issue. “Whose work is this?”

Jun grinned proudly. “Xavier the blacksmith, mostly. This is the second one he’s fitted me with since I was ten.”

“You’ve had a fake leg since you were ten?” Eugene asked, bewildered. “How does a kid in Old Corona come across that problem?”

“If you don't mind us asking,” Rapunzel added politely.

Her smile briefly faltered. “Not at all. I had a bad run-in with some farming equipment when I was little. I’d...rather not go into detail about it, your Highness.”

“Oh please, just Rapunzel.”

“I couldn't possibly--”

Cassandra rose from her chair and stood in front of Jun, giving her an intense stare she clearly learned from her dad. Like she was trying to pull out the truth with her eyes alone.

“Did _he_ have anything to do with it?”

Jun recoiled, looking both confused and offended. “Varian? No, of course not!”

She was about to stand before she seemed to remember that her prosthesis was on the floor.

“Calm down now,” Eugene assured her, “she didn't mean anything by it. We’re just a little anxious for answers.”

“And what kind of answers are you looking for?” Jun asked, expression stony. “Are you waiting for me to tell you that he was troubled as a kid? That he wasn’t all right in the head? That none of this would’ve happened if he just had a family who loved him more or room to pursue his talents? Well, I’m sorry to tell you but none of that is true. He was _kind_. He was _brilliant_. His father was _so proud_ of him.”

Jun’s voice was cracking but she didn’t seem to care. She shrank back in the chair, wrapping her arms around herself and averting her eyes from the other three. “I...I don’t condone anything Varian’s done—what he did was _horrific_. But you need to understand that not all horrors rise from awful beginnings. Sometimes life doesn’t give us the usual warning signs.”

It was as if all sound had been instantly sucked from the room and replaced with a deep, weighty void. Rapunzel felt it again—that heaviness she saw in Jun’s eyes the day before. Only instead of dispersing, it hovered around her like a thick fog, trying to choke her with the heartache and guilt she must have been burdened with for weeks.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra said, breaking the silence. She carefully laid her sword on the floor and knelt next to Jun, awkwardly resting her hand on her shoulder in her own attempt to comfort her. “With everything that's happened, I guess we’ve all been a little on edge lately.”

Rapunzel nodded, sliding down to settle on the carpet. “We realize how hard this must be for you. It's scary, seeing someone you know do something so hateful.”

Wiping at her tired eyes, Jun gazed at her plaintively. “You remind me so much of him,” she whispered. “So eager to help others.”

Eugene grabbed Cassandra's empty chair and turned it backwards to sit in front of Jun, still maintaining a fair bit of distance.

“So,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “you must have known him pretty well, then?”

Jun let out a breath she’d been holding and began fumbling with her dress collar. Reaching underneath, she withdrew a worn leather cord with a steel pendant hanging off it. Similar to the joints in her leg, the necklace's design was rather simple, as if whoever made it was unaccustomed to metalwork. Even so, Rapunzel was sure she recognized it as an alchemy symbol, from peering at Varian's notes.

“Yeah,” Jun answered, looking wistfully at the dull pendant. “Yeah, we knew each other a bit.”

* * *

Jun was beginning to wonder if the walk back from work wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

The lengthy route was expected when she first applied to work at the castle. The first couple of times were refreshing and gave her some much-needed time to herself away from her parents. Now, a week in, the novelty was starting to wear off. She’d tried to arrange for a ride closer to home, but it turned out that the last carriage out of Corona wouldn't go any farther than the Snuggly Duckling. That left her with three more miles to haul the last few garments that required mending back to the village. The clothes themselves weren’t heavy, but the uneven dirt road combined with the quickly setting sun made it difficult to maintain her balance while carrying everything.

To make matters worse, Xavier had fitted her with a new leg only two weeks ago. While it was nice having one that actually matched her height, there was something off about the socket that made it very harsh on her knee. Perhaps she could line it with some fabric to lessen the strain? She was sure there was some leftover cotton scraps from when she’d first sent in her portfolio. Unless her father tossed them like the time—

Her train of thought was interrupted by two glowing lights appearing farther down the path. She squinted in the near-darkness, trying to determine the source. They were too bright to be any sort of animal eyes, but Jun couldn’t help her fight-or-flight instincts stirring as the lights slowly drew nearer.

“Who’s there?” she called, ready to wind her right leg back and kick whatever this threat was.

It was close enough now that Jun could make out a scrawny figure coming towards her, wearing some kind of welding mask. The twin beams from the mask’s eyes bathed the area in an eerie green light. Before she could make a move, a familiar rasping voice rang out, slightly muffled.

“Jun, is that you?”

Jun stopped, taken aback.

“Varian?”

Sure enough, when the figure removed the mask, Jun saw her neighbor's wide blue eyes staring at her in excitement.

“I haven't seen you in forever!” Varian exclaimed, his face splitting into a lopsided grin.

“Y-yeah, me neither,” Jun replied, more than a little flustered at the person before her. The eyes, shaggy black hair, and freckles were unmistakable. But as far as she was concerned, someone had run her old friend's body through a taffy puller. The preteen was long and lanky, with toothpick arms haphazardly stuffed into bulky black gloves. A pair of goggles were perched on top of his head, seeming rather redundant in addition to his welding mask. How long had it been since she’d last seen him?

Varian was about to go in for a hug when he noticed the pile of clothing in her arms.

“Whoa, what’s all this? What have you been up to lately?”

Jun blew at a strand of hair that had come loose from her braid. “You’re looking,” she said smugly, “at Corona’s newest royal seamstress. I just started last week.”

Somehow his eyes got even bigger. “That’s so _cool!_ So you’re making clothes for the king and queen? What are they like? Are you living at the castle now?”

She giggled, continuing to walk toward the village while Varian fell into step with her. “I’m not doing anything amazing yet, I’m just an apprentice right now,” she explained. “They only have me doing some mending. Castle staff uniforms, guard attire, stuff like that. But I get to work under the queen’s lady-in-waiting—Miss Friedborg, she’s really strict. And no, I still come home after work.”

“For now!” he added eagerly. “I’m sure they’ll recognize your talent soon. Then you’ll be making outfits for the queen in no time!”

“I'm not sure her Majesty wants a fourteen-year-old dressing her,” Jun mused, “but maybe someday.”

Varian’s jaw dropped as he clapped a hand to his forehead. “Jeez, fourteen? It really has been a while! I guess we haven't really talked since…”

He trailed off, suddenly looking even paler in the green light. Jun tried not to call attention to it.

“Since the accident, yeah,” she finished, ready to change the subject. “Well, what about you? How old are you now, eleven?”

“Twelve,” he answered, puffing out his chest with a smirk. “I'm almost as tall as you now.”

Jun’s brows knit together. “Yeah, how did that happen?” she said sarcastically, stepping a little closer to size him up.

All at once, her foot stumbled on the uneven path. Losing her balance, Jun felt her prosthesis lock up uselessly. She knew she was going down and without thinking, she threw out her arm to catch herself.

“Watch it, Jun!”

Varian caught her by the elbow before she completely pitched forward. As she uprighted herself, Jun looked around and groaned; half of the clothing she’d been carrying had scattered along the road.

“Guess I can add washing to my list of chores tonight,” she said, disappointed.

He quickly knelt to help her gather them, pausing for a moment to look at her feet. “Will you get in trouble for this?” he asked worriedly.

“Nobody needs to know,” Jun sighed. “At least it wasn't anything too nice. This one time, I saw Miss Friedborg drop three yards of blue satin in the courtyard. It was supposed to be a gown for her Majesty but she just left it on the ground and never looked back.”

Varian cringed. “Yikes.”

The two of them continued catching up as they headed back to town. Varian went on about his growing interest in science and alchemy, describing the chemicals he used in his mask to make the eyes glow. He even showed off a burn on his arm and neck he got from spilling a solution on himself, leaving Jun both worried and impressed with her friend. Before long, they were standing in front of her house, a squat building just a few doors down from Varian's.

“You wanna come in?” she asked before opening the door. “My dad's probably gone, it’s just me and Mom home right now.”

“Yeah, he was with _my_ dad, last time I checked,” Varian replied. “Actually, could I come in? I wanted to ask you something. About your leg.”

Jun looked at him quizzically, then shrugged and let him inside.

“Hey Mom, I’m back,” she called into the cozy kitchen.

Her mother was watching over a stewpot with the utmost concentration, dirty blonde hair gathered into a messy bun. She gave a halfhearted nod to her daughter.

“You're late, Juniper dear,” she trilled, barely looking up from her task.

“Sorry, I got a little held up on the way back,” Jun admitted quickly. “Anyway, Varian and I will be in my room if you need anything.”

Varian waved from behind her. “Hi, Miss Martina!”

She smiled curtly at him, shooting Jun a disapproving scowl when he wasn't looking. She rolled her eyes in response as she moved Varian to her cramped bedroom.

“Weird,” she remarked as soon as she shut the door, “I thought she’d be a little happier to see you.”

He shrugged, taking a seat on her bed. “Lots of people in town have been looking at me like that lately. Dad says my experiments are starting to make them anxious.”

Jun burst out laughing. “What are you going to do, level the town? You're just tinkering around, right?”

“W-well yeah, sure,” he answered, fidgeting with his mask. “I don't wanna hurt anyone.”

“Then don't worry about what they think,” she said simply. “Mom will come around, and your dad knows you're really smart for ten years old.”

“I said I'm twelve.”

Jun smiled mischievously. “Don’t stress yourself out too much, you're only eight.”

“Hey, cut that out,” he whined.

“I love my four-year-old friend.”

“ _Jun_.”

“Okay, I’ll stop,” she said, dissolving into giggles. “You were saying you had to ask me something?”

Varian straightened up. “Right! Uh, I was wondering if I could…”

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the words.

“It's just, I saw your leg stiffen really weird when you fell. I thought that maybe…”

“You wanna take a look at it?” Jun guessed.

“Could I?”

His blue eyes shone, pleading.

Jun nodded, sitting on the bed next to him with a sigh. It had been a while since she’d last shown it to anyone; nowadays, she really only showed it to her dad, Xavier, and her doctor.

Not even bothering to unstrap it, she pulled up her skirt and heaved her leg onto the bed, laying it gently across his lap.

”Sorry,” she confessed, “this is probably going to be a little awkward.”

Varian wasn't listening. He was staring, absolutely transfixed at the contraption.

“Amazing,” he whispered, marveling at it. Hand hovering, he almost seemed afraid to touch it. His eyes darted immediately to her ankle, where the metal joints seemed to be catching on each other.

He poked at it with a gloved finger. “I think if you had another point of articulation down here, your ankle would move more naturally.”

“Xavier said the same thing,” Jun agreed. “He offered to fine-tune it but I turned him down. Dad just couldn't afford it.”

Running his fingers over the gears, his eyes snapped up to lock with hers.

“I could do it.”

She looked crestfallen. “Varian, you know I can't pay—”

“You need it done though, right?” His mind was already made up. Jun knew there was no changing it.

“I-I suppose…”

“I can mess around with it this weekend,” he promised. “You can find a way to pay me back later.”

Jun considered this, remembering the burns and calluses he’d flaunted earlier.

“Well,” she suggested, “something tells me you’re gonna need more protective clothes in your future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are lovely but comments are nicer!
> 
> My inbox is always open at thefatesdesign.tumblr.com, if you'd like to drop by!


	3. Bedtime Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a furious battle wages and Quirin wonders why he lets guests sleep over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello again, dear readers! Thanks for sticking around for chapter 3 of FoA. This chapter is a bit shorter, but hopefully still just as enjoyable!

“ _Rider stopped, listening to the surrounding forest. Not a sound could be heard. No animals, no people, not even the leaves rustling in the trees._ ”

Varian sat on the edge of his mattress, rapt with attention as his father continued reading out of the worn book. Jun was cross-legged on the floor next to him, listening while pulling at a stray thread in her nightgown.

“ _He withdrew his sword_ ,” Quirin went on, “ _bracing himself for whatever might happen next. As he slowly took a step backwards, Rider felt a twig snap beneath his boot and–_ ”

“The White Tiger!” Varian shouted, bouncing up and stretching his little arms wide. He tumbled off his bed and landed on the floor next to Jun, making them both giggle.

Quirin rubbed his chin in thought. “Funny,” he wondered out loud, “if I didn't know better, I’d have thought you’d heard this one before.”

“What happens next?” Jun said excitedly, scooching herself forward. Her curly brown hair bounced with the momentum, free from the pigtails her mom had been making her wear.

Varian waved his hand in the air. “Oh, I know! Dad, let me tell her!”

“Hang on a second, son,” Quirin chuckled. “Maybe you could try reading it.”

The boy nodded eagerly, hopping onto his father's lap and squinting at the pages.

“‘A...all of a su-sudden,’” Varian read slowly, “‘Rider’s feet were s-swe–’”

“Swept,” Quirin helped him.

“S...wept,” he carefully repeated. “‘Rider’s feet were swept out from un...under him and he fell to the forest floor.’”

His father smiled softly. “Great job, Varian.”

Jun’s eyes widened. “That's so awesome! You're really smart, Varian!”

He felt his face heat up at the praise and scrambled off Quirin’s knee.

“Keep going, Dad!” he cried out. Jun reached over and grabbed a stuffed doll from the bed, clinging onto it.

Quirin eyed both of the children, who seemed utterly entranced by the story, and stole a glance out the window. It was late, he noted, but surely finishing the chapter couldn't hurt.

“ _He craned his neck behind him to see his attacker. Strolling toward him was a figure he knew all too well. The man was barefoot and wearing a pure white gi, brandishing a long spear._

“ _'_ _Flynnigan Rider,’ the White Tiger sneered, ‘I should have known that you would be the one to foil my brilliant plan.’_ ”

“Told you,” Varian said under his breath, poking Jun in the ribs. She lightly smacked him back with her doll.

Quirin went on. “ _Rider jumped to his feet, sword still in hand. ‘Your treachery ends today, you ivory ignoramus,’ he said with a laugh._ —You two aren't allowed to say that, by the way— _He swiped at the Tiger with his blade, barely missing him. The martial artist dodged, skillfully beating him back with a series of sharp jabs from his spear. Rider was beginning to lose his balance, feeling both of them step closer and closer to the edge of the cliff._ ”

Varian squeaked, his leg jiggling in anticipation.

“ _He made a final lunge at the Tiger, cutting through his gi and grazing his side. His enemy let out a roar of pain and landed a powerful kick to his chest, sending Rider sliding over the ledge._ ”

Jun was clutching the doll so hard that a seam was splitting.

“ _Rider dangled over the edge by one hand, losing his grip on the sword. He gulped as he watched it fall into the abyss below him and turned his eyes to the White Tiger, who looked down at him with a wicked grin._

“‘ _End of the line, Rider,’ he jeered. He gleefully dug his heel into the hero’s fingers. Rider winced, trying to find a better hold on the rocks. But the Tiger would not be defeated again. He gave a determined stomp, forcing Rider to let go and plummet off the cliff._ ”

“Nooooo,” Varian heard Jun whisper.

Quirin closed the book abruptly. “And that,” he said decisively, “is it for tonight. Time for bed.”

Jun’s eyes followed the book as he placed it back on Varian's shelf, their gold color almost glowing in the candlelight.

“That can't be it,” she protested. “What happens next?”

Quirin shook his head with a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see. Maybe we can finish it tomorrow morning.”

She pouted for a moment, but seemed to accept that, climbing into bed and burrowing under the covers. “Good night, sir!” Jun chirped, voice muffled by the blanket.

Varian hugged his dad, who ruffled his hair and proceeded to tuck him in next to her.

“Sleep well, you two,” Quirin said, gently blowing out the candle at Varian's bedside.

Varian listened as he left the room, shutting the door behind him. As his footsteps died away, the boy waited a few minutes to make sure he didn't come back. When at last he was certain, he rolled over and nudged Jun’s side.

“Hey,” he said in her ear, “you still awake?”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled sleepily.

Varian sat up in his bed.

“Wanna know how the story ends?”

That seemed to wake her up. Jun bolted upright, nearly hitting him in the face.

“Can you read it?” she asked incredulously.

The five-year-old fidgeted with the covers as she got up and relit the candle on his nightstand. “Not all of it, but I ‘member what happens, I think. Mostly.”

He swooped under his bed and came back out with a toy wooden sword and a broom.

“I got a better idea anyway.”

* * *

 “Your reign of terror ends now, White Tiger!” Varian shouted triumphantly, waving his sword in the air. He lunged at Jun, who blocked his attack with the broom handle.

She gave an impish grin, clumsily spinning the broom over her head and pointing it at her opponent. “Nice try, Rider,” she cackled, “but we both know you’ll be the one going down today.”

They circled each other on the old bedroom rug, waiting for an opening to strike. Varian saw something out of the corner of his eye—a pillow. He snatched it up and flung it at Jun to distract her. She batted it away easily and it hit the nightstand, flopping down harmlessly. Jun tried to jab the broom at Varian, only to look up and see that he’d leapt back on his bed.

He let out a heroic laugh and puffed out his chest. “You’ll never catch me up here!” he taunted, blowing a raspberry at her.

“We’ll see about that!” she shot back.

Varian watched her take a running start and spring onto the mattress, nearly making him lose his balance.

“Ready to give up, Rider?” Jun said, starting to look fatigued. Her posture drooped as she stopped to catch her breath.

He laughed, giving her a smile that he hoped looked roguish. “Nope, but it looks like you are.”

Before he could gloat, though, Varian felt something hook around his knees and bring him down. Sliding off the bed, he gripped the sheets like his life depended on it and gawked at his rival. Jun looked perfectly fine, tossing the broom from one hand to the other.

“Looks like it's the end of the line for you,” she simpered.

Varian was impressed; she was really into her role. Was it just him, or did her facial features look sharper in the candlelight?

As he thought this, he noticed her expression change from satisfaction to fear. “ _Varian!_ ” she yelped, pointing over his shoulder.

He looked behind him and almost lost his hold on the bed.

During their battle, the candle had tipped over and ignited against the pillow still on the floor. The small flame was now spreading quickly, consuming the pillow and making its way across the floor.

Varian felt himself being lifted back on the bed as Jun pulled him away from the fire. Smoke was filling his small bedroom, making the air thick and impossible to see through. Jun coughed badly, no longer faking it, and clung to him in terror. He screamed, in hopes that his dad would hear. Dizziness overtook him, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open.

He thought he could hear the door slam open, his father's voice sounding like it was a hundred miles away.

“Varian! Juniper!”

The flames suddenly went out and the smoke started to disperse. Varian could barely make out Quirin stamping out the remains of the pillow, an empty bucket laying to the side. When the last of the fire finally died down, he stared at the two of them, his countenance hard and intense.

Varian felt tears springing into his eyes. They were definitely in trouble now.

“Dad…”

Quirin rushed over and seized both of them in a crushing hug. Varian broke down, sniffling into his father's shoulder. He felt Jun’s body shaking next to him, no doubt also crying.

“Why couldn't you two just go to sleep when I asked you to?” Quirin muttered, letting a sigh of relief escape him.

“W-we’re really sorry, sir,” Jun hiccuped. “Please d-don’t tell my mom about this…”

Quirin gave a bemused chuckle. “I'm just happy you’re both safe.”

He pulled back, looking from one scared face to the other.

“But I'm afraid I’ll have to tell your parents how my son’s room got charred.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are lovely but comments are nicer!
> 
> My inbox is always open at thefatesdesign.tumblr.com, if you'd like to drop by!


	4. Cooperative Metal and Smelly Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some relationships are strained, some are strengthened, and experiments get a little stinky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello again, dear readers! I'm currently hopped up on cold medication but I still managed to finish this installment. Please let me know what you think! Also, please don't hesitate to tell me if I've made a mistake involving the science or mechanics in this chapter. I've done a fair bit of research on prosthetics but I'm far from perfect, so any input is much appreciated!

A dull crash sounded in the kitchen, eliciting an annoyed groan from Jun. She looked up from the old, splintered table and frowned at her crutches now laying on the floor.

“Really?” she deadpanned. The crutches didn't respond. She scowled, putting down her latest sewing project and pushing back her chair.

“You’re an embarrassment to this household, you know that?” she griped, just as a burly, dark-skinned man strolled into the room.

He chuckled. “I’m just doing my best, Junebug.”

Jun grinned back. “Hi, Dad. Do you think you can help me out?”

Her father cheerfully obliged, picking up the crutches and leaning them back against the table.

“Haven’t seen these in a while,” he said thoughtfully. “Still not a fan of the new leg?”

“Well, that's the thing,” she replied, leaning forward to tie a knot in her right pant leg. “I ran into Varian the other night.”

He smiled. “Your mother told me. Quirin and I were wondering if you two were ever going to hang out again.”

“He’s gotten so tall, Dad,” Jun mused. “And so _smart_ , working with alchemy and inventing things _._ He’s even offered to fix the joints in my leg—”

“Cyrus.”

They both whipped around to see her mother standing in the doorway, lips pressed into a thin line and balancing a basket of laundry on her hip.

Cyrus gave an awkward wave. “Hello, my love.”

Her expression softened a bit, a trace of a smile reaching her weary gray eyes.

“The wash basin has another leak in it,” she said plainly. “Do you think you could patch it up today?”

“I’ll get right on it, dearest,” he answered, moving past her and planting a kiss on her cheek. Whistling tunelessly, he darted out of the kitchen, leaving his wife and daughter alone.

The silence was stifling; both were unsure whether to say something or not. Jun reached forward and resumed her sewing, averting her eyes from her mother all the while. Martina sighed, uncomfortably rifling through the laundry for a moment before speaking.

“Is that for work?”

Jun's fingers slowed.

“Oh, uh, not really,” she said, doing her best to sound nonchalant.

Martina's eyes narrowed. “That's quite a bit of leather you have there. Interesting how you'd use so much on something for pleasure. Leather’s quite expensive, you know.”

Jun could feel blood rushing to her cheeks and neck. She turned to her, determined to keep her patience in check.

“It’s for Varian,” she explained, a tight smile on her face. “He’s working on my prosthesis, so I'm returning the favor.”

She watched her mother's eyes flit briefly to her crutches, just noticing them. _Of course_ , Jun thought irritably.

Martina opened her mouth, as if to say something but thought better of it.

“I see,” she exhaled, shifting the basket to her other hip. “Work’s going well for you, then?”

“I haven't really been there long enough to judge,” Jun replied, “but sure, it's okay. It's mostly training, still. Mending and such.”

“And they're...accommodating?” she pressed.

Jun winced, hand unconsciously drifting towards her leg. “They're fine with it. I'm usually on the ground floor, so I don't have to deal with stairs. There's a couple of sewing machines that make me a little nervous—they’re really noisy—but I haven't had to use one yet.”

Her mother seemed satisfied with that response.

“So you’re going to see Varian today?”

She shrugged. “I'm going to need my leg for work tomorrow, so…”

Martina stiffened. “Of course.”

She turned to leave but paused to look back at her.

“Be safe, Juniper.”

* * *

Jun smelled something foul from inside Varian's house, and it only worsened as the double doors swung open.

“Jun, you're here!”

The preteen was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was wearing his goggles, and Jun noticed that his baggy shirt bore quite a few burn holes in the sleeves.

“Yeah, I’m—”

She gagged, covering her nose. “Sorry, but what’s that smell? It’s awful.”

Varian gave a nervous giggle. “Oh, that? Just a little methane gas.”

“Methane?”

“Garbage.”

“Oh.”

Jun was doing her best to match her friend's enthusiasm, but found it hard with her crutches digging into her armpits and knapsack hanging haphazardly from her shoulders. Why were there so many steps to his front door?

Varian seemed to notice her pained smile and smacked his palm to his forehead. “Jeez, where are my manners? Come on in, sit down!”

Holding her breath, she hobbled inside and dropped her crutches the instant she spied a chair, collapsing into it while he neatly pulled a clothespin from his pocket and secured it to her nose.

“See, I was trying to figure out if it was possible to use methane gas as fuel to produce heat,” he explained while cracking open a window to let out the stink. “Essentially using the trash we leave behind to create our own energy!”

Jun cautiously removed the pin as she felt the air clear and looked around the room. She gawked, remembering that this used to be the kitchen. Now it looked as if Varian had completely repurposed it for a makeshift lab. Books, bottles, and various bits of metal littered the counters. An extinguished cylindrical burner sat next to a sealed, seemingly empty flagon. Sketches of various inventions were tacked to the walls, notes jotted down in a clumsy scrawl.

“That's some smelly energy,” she remarked, awestruck. “What did you find out?”

Varian rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well for one thing,” he said, pointing to the ceiling, “methane is incredibly explosive.”

She looked up, spotting an ashy mark just above the burner.

“And that’s about as far as I got.”

Jun grinned, reaching to unhook her knapsack and and handing it to him. “Well,” she declared, “hopefully this might help in your experiments. Or at least it’ll keep me from worrying about you so much.”

Unable to contain his excitement, the twelve-year-old opened the flap of the bag and pulled out a brown bolt of leather. As he unrolled it, Varian’s blue eyes lit up.

“Oh my gosh, is this…?”

“It’s an apron!” she squealed, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “I mean, I thought it’d be a good idea, since you keep spilling chemicals and stuff on yourself. The leather should give you a fair bit of protection. And look, I sewed a couple of pockets on both sides and gave the neck strap a buckle so you can alter it when you get bigger. Do...do you like it?”

Varian hurried to tie the apron on, shoving his hands into the pockets and spinning around in pure joy. “This is _awesome!_ ” he hollered, turning this way and that to admire her creation. “An actual work apron! I’m starting to look like a real alchemist now!”

Seeing how thrilled he was sent a warm glow to Jun’s heart. Getting the leather hadn’t been easy—she’d wound up spending almost her entire week’s pay to procure it. Sewing it was a whole other monster, the process consisting of two days and nights with very little sleep and countless pricks to her fingers. Even as it was finished, all she could stare at were the little mistakes and inconsistencies; it really was a rush job. But Varian’s glee was absolutely contagious, seeing nothing but possibility for the garment. Such elation compelled her to forget about all the issues she had encountered. This was what she wanted people to see in her work. This was why she was a seamstress in the first place.

He flung his arms around her neck, making the chair nearly tip back from the force. “Thank you, thank you!” he gushed into her shoulder. “I promise I’ll use it all the time!”

Jun returned the hug, absentmindedly adjusting the apron’s band around his waist. “I’ll hold you to that,” she joked. “If I see you playing with acid and you’re not wearing this thing, I’ll kick your butt.”

Pulling back, Varian smirked. “How can you kick my butt if I still have one of your legs?”

He got up and sashayed out of the kitchen-lab, quickly returning with a bulky package wrapped in ivory cotton.

“Well now, I wonder what this could be,” she pondered, tenting her fingers in front of her and pretending to look puzzled.

He stuck his tongue out at her and placed the bundle in her lap. Jun carefully unwrapped it and let out a small cry.

“Oh, _Varian_ ,” she whispered, stroking the newly polished wood lovingly, “It looks _incredible_.”

The boy blushed, wringing his hands bashfully. “It-it’s not much. I mostly just cleaned it up. But I added a few gears to the ankle, so you can extend the foot farther. Hopefully you’ll be able to balance a little better.”

Wasting no time, Jun untied the knot in her pant leg and rolled it up, exposing her residual limb. “Guess we should find out,” she said brightly.

Varian eagerly lifted the prosthesis and placed it on the floor, aligning it with her knee. He paused, and Jun could feel him trying not to focus on it.

“It’s okay,” she gently goaded him. “You can stare, if you want.”

He looked flustered. “I-I’m sorry!” he yelped. “I just didn’t really see it the last time I saw you.” Fascinated, he traced his finger along the jagged scar running from her knee to where her shin ended a few inches below, jerking away as if it were the most fragile thing in the world.

Jun laughed lightly. “It’s not gonna bite. Now come on, hand me that cotton.”

She skillfully twisted the the cloth around her leg in the familiar technique used for fitting it to a prosthesis, tucking it in snugly. Varian watched silently, studying how she wound the leather belts over the white wrap and around her waist to secure it.

“What's it like?” he blurted out.

“Kind of itchy,” she replied without thinking. “Feels more like burlap than cotton.”

“Wait, what?”

“Huh?”

Varian shook his head. “I meant, uh, what's it like, having a…”

He trailed off, struggling to find the words.

“Stump?”

“Is that really what it's called?”

Jun snorted. “Well, itchy is still accurate. Most days are pretty normal: I stretch it, keep it clean, check it for any swelling, and just go about my day. But some days, it feels really weird. The doctor calls it 'phantom pain.’ It's like my brain knows part of my leg is gone, but my body is still trying to use that part? That doesn't happen as often as it used to, but it's really disorienting when it does.”

“So it's like your nerves are telling you your leg is still there, even when it's not?” Varian asked, starting to understand.

“Basically. And it's not enough to keep this thing clean every day. Once in a while, it gets infected anyway just because it hates you. Then it's another trip to Dr. Heintze and a few days stuck in bed.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” he pondered, a flash of guilt passing over his features. Jun smiled, gently tousling his hair.

“Okay, now stand back,” she warned.

He did so, eyeing her warily. Jun dug her heel—both heels now—into the floor, pushing herself up to stand. Wobbling for a few seconds, she found her balance and gingerly pliéd once, twice, testing the new limb out. In a surge of audacity, she lifted her left leg off the floor, putting all her weight on the wooden one and twirling herself around.

_SKREEEEE_

The noise surprised her so much that she immediately lost her footing. Varian caught hold of her wrists, steadying her. Both of them broke down laughing.

“It squeaks!” he wheezed, equally amused and horrified at the defect.

Jun blinked through the tears streaming down her face.”Don't worry, it gives it character!”

She caught her breath, enveloping Varian in another grateful hug and nearly lifting him in the air.

“I’ve never been able to do that with a prosthesis,” she said, feeling like she was on top of the world. “I mean, did you _see_ that? I was almost on my toes! Or its toes!”

Varian squeezed her back, letting out a sigh of relief. “I'm so glad you like it. It’s not even close to everything I wanted to do, but I'd like to try and make it even better.”

“Looks like I’ll be paying you back with more alchemist gear then,” Jun teased.

“Oh, that reminds me!” he cried out, breaking their hug. He zipped to the cluttered kitchen table and started rummaging through the mess. “I made you something with some leftover steel. It's probably dumb but I kind of like how it turned out.”

He picked up one of the books and raced back to her, opening it to reveal a small metal figure acting as a bookmark. It looked like a hybrid between a cross and a trident, with a small hole at the top, where he’d looped a thin leather cord.

Jun picked up the necklace, admiring it as it dangled from her fingers. “It’s so pretty,” she breathed. “What is it?”

Flipping through the pages, Varian pointed to a similar picture in his book. “It's the alchemic symbol for antimony,” he explained, beaming. “It’s known as a cooperative metal, even though it's not really a metal at all. Anyway, it’s an element that works best when it's combined with other metals. My book says antimony teaches adaptability, wisdom, and strength that comes from others. I, uh, thought it reminded me of you a lot.”

She was touched; the thought of her friend thinking so highly of her was overwhelming. The pendant was large, almost the size of her palm and heavier than a necklace needed to be. Jun ignored this and tied the string around her neck, letting it rest just below her collarbone.

“It's perfect,” she affirmed. “I promise I’ll wear it all the time.”

Varian winced. “Please don't,” he said. “It's really clumsy-looking. I’ve never made anything like that before.”

“Well, up until this weekend, I’d never made anything completely out of leather,” Jun countered, tapping on the twisted metal. “Looks like we're both gaining wisdom from each other.”

“So you’re saying we're both antimony?” he asked.

“Oh no, I’m antimony for sure. You’re some other mineral, like sulfur.”

“Gross! Sulfur smells so bad!”

Jun giggled. “So does this house. We’d better clean this up before your dad gets home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are lovely but comments are nicer!
> 
> My inbox is always open at thefatesdesign.tumblr.com, if you'd like to drop by!


	5. Hoi Palloi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which flowers and art play a role and a bet is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whew, sorry for the delay, dear readers! I've prepared a longer chapter than usual to make up for it. Enjoy!

”Okay, but what if she was taken by pirates, and instead of holding her up for ransom, the pirates just raised her to be like them?”

Jun scrunched up her nose. “So now she's sailing the high seas, like a swashbuckler? I think your last three theories have involved some kind of pirates or bandits. How about this one?”

She pulled out a thick, bright yellow sheet of paper from the shelf just above her head. Varian took it and held it up to the sunlight.

“No good,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t see any light through this, and it’s too stiff to bend or roll up. We need something thinner.”

The ten-year-old stared at the rows before her, tapping a fist against her lip. A dizzying rainbow of glossy paper looked back at her, their vibrant colors arranged in perfect order and stretching beyond where the two of them could see. “They all look like this, though. Are they all out of thin paper?”

Varian looked behind them. At the front counter, he could see Jun’s mom chatting with the shopkeeper, a skinny, excitable man with red hair tied back in a ponytail. She didn't seem to be paying attention to them.

“Maybe further back?” he suggested, wandering into the next aisle. Jun shrugged, following behind him.

Varian scanned the shelves, trying to figure out how the shop was organized. They were drifting away from the paper and closer to paints and oil pastels.

“Well at least my theories are based around stuff that's real,” he said, getting back to their debate. “I mean come on, snatched up by a witch?”

Jun puffed out her cheeks in frustration. “Well when you put it like _t_ _hat_ , it sounds stupid. But there are plenty of reasons why a witch would steal her away. Maybe the queen promised her firstborn to her. Or maybe it was revenge for getting banished from the kingdom.”

“Maybe, if witchcraft actually existed,” he replied, challenging her. “Unless she turned the princess into a frog, your hypothesis isn't any different from mine.” He turned on his heel and started skipping down the aisle, passing over an array of paintbrushes and wooden pallets.

Jun rolled her eyes with a grin. Varian had gotten a few science books for his birthday and managed to devour them all in the span of a week. Since then, he’d been considering himself an authority on the subject and loved pointing out stuff he’d learned to his dad and Jun. His friend found most of it interesting, but for some reason refused to admit that there was no such thing as magic.

“She could have!” she called after the boy as he scampered farther and farther away. She broke into a jog to keep up with him. “It’d sure make her harder to find. And just because you use big words like 'hypothesis,’ that doesn't mean you’re right!”

Varian giggled, not even looking at the art supplies anymore. Now he was just seeing if he could lose her in the shop. Maybe he could jump out and scare her if he got far enough away.

“Hiya!” a chipper voice rang out.

Before he reached the end of the aisle, a freckled, smiling face poked out from around the corner, making him fall back on his rear. The girl gasped, helping him up as Jun caught up to them.

“Sorry, sorry!” she fussed, tucking a ginger lock behind her ear. “I just get excited when people come back here. So, are you guys looking for paint?”

“We’re mostly trying to find paper,” Jun explained, straightening her spine in front of the older girl and smoothing out her periwinkle dress.

The red-haired girl tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “Well you're a long way from the paper aisle,” she said, pointing high above Varian's head. “See? Paper’s down the other way.”

Varian heard a sharp intake of breath from his friend. He craned his neck up, following the girl’s finger. Sure enough, there was a wooden board staring back at them, proudly bearing the words “Paints and Oils.”

“Sorry,” Jun said quietly. “I-I must have missed the sign.” She suddenly became very interested in the oil pastels, turning them so their labels were facing out while ignoring the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“We already looked back there,” Varian quickly chimed in. He reached out and gently tugged on Jun’s sleeve, bringing her back. “But it was all super thick stuff. Do you have any really thin paper? Something that lets light shine through?”

The girl's eyes lit up. “You aren't, by any chance, looking to make your own lantern, are you?”

Jun nodded vigorously, keeping her mouth zipped.

“Fantastic!” she crowed, startling the two of them. “Most people like buying their lanterns from vendors, but to me there's nothing quite like making one from scratch. Now that I think about it, there should be some leftover supplies in the back room.”

She breezed past them to the front counter, nearly crashing into the shopkeeper as she vanished into another room behind a huge display case.

“Careful, Dahlia!” he called after her, running a hand through his hair. “Kids these days,” he shrugged, flashing a blinding smile at Jun’s mother.

She winked, patting her stomach knowingly. “Oh, we’re coming up on our second one, our troubles are just starting.”

As the adults continued their conversation, Varian felt Jun nudge him in the side. She pressed her finger to a sign beside the counter, her eyes darting from the unfamiliar letters to the floor.

“Does that say ‘paper,’ then?” she asked softly.

He squinted, barely able to decipher the loopy cursive himself. “Nah,” he replied. “‘Scrapbooking.’ So it’s basically the paper aisle.”

“Oh.”

Jun twisted a lock of hair around her fingers, averting her gaze from his. Varian looped a skinny arm around her waist, leaning his head against her shoulder.

“That’s three,” she said, her voice still hushed. “Three times I couldn’t even look at a sign correctly.”

“Hey,” he whispered back, “don’t worry about it, okay? There are still lots of folks in Old Corona who can’t read.”

He could feel her back hunch forward slightly in response. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “We’re not in Old Corona, though. I never really thought the capital city was so different from home before, but there's so much happening here that we have no idea about. I mean, the people here just assume that everyone can read.”

Varian's brow furrowed. “I keep telling you, I don't mind reading things for you—”

“It's more than that, though,” Jun continued, stealing a glance at the bustling marketplace from the shop’s front window. “Everything about this city seems...brighter, somehow. The streets are clean, the food tastes better, the people act like there's more to their lives than just getting by. It’s like just from living here, they're on a way higher level than we could ever hope to be. I don't know, it feels like there's a whole world I’m missing out on and it's written right in front of my face.”

Varian never considered this before, but he had to admit that there was some truth to her words. Quirin had taught him his letters and their sounds years ago, but it didn’t take long for him to notice that this skill was a rarity in their village. Most were content, managing with the bit of counting needed to keep track of the harvest from year to year. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t even remember seeing another book outside of the few in his home. _Books cost money_ , Quirin had told him once after asking for an encyclopedia to add to his library. That was his reason for turning down most of his son’s ideas. There was never a day when his dad wasn’t worrying about money, or his fields, or if Varian had gotten too big for his clothes and needed new ones. Here, the citizens in the capital city didn't seem to have problems like that. They were allowed to have hobbies outside of what they needed to get through the day. He knew for sure an art shop like this would fail horribly in Old Corona.

His hand tightened against Jun's dress, which suddenly seemed a duller blue than he initially thought. She shook her head for a moment, looking down at her friend's troubled face with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

“Jeez, sorry about that,” she said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “I didn't mean to let it bug me so much. I guess it's something that’s just been on my mind for a while.”

Varian was about to speak when the back room door slammed open. A frazzled Dahlia emerged, victoriously holding up a pot of violet paint, a pair of scissors, some wire, and an entire ream of thin, yellow paper. Jun's mother jumped, clutching a hand to her chest.

“How much do you need?!” she hollered.

* * *

“You know, we send out these lanterns every year so the princess might see them and return home,” Varian pondered. “But why doesn't the king just send out a search party?”

Jun paused, moving away from a giant bouquet of sunflowers to peruse some of the smaller arrangements. “I think they did,” she replied. “When she first disappeared. The guards couldn't find anything.”

“So that was it?” he asked. “One search and then they just gave up? Seems like it’d do more good to keep looking.”

Quirin gave his son’s shoulder a hard squeeze. “I'm sure the king has his reasons, son,” he said, a warning tone to his voice.

Varian peered over his shoulder and noticed a pair of royal guards patrolling near the flower stand. They were mostly preoccupied with overseeing the festivities, but—he had to be seeing things—they seemed to be taking orders from a small, black-haired teen who was smacking at their legs with a training sword. Nonetheless, Varian got the message loud and clear and ducked his head down, distracting himself with a vase of impossibly purple daisies. Jun wandered back to him as Quirin left to pay the vendor.

“I got it,” she whispered excitedly. “The king won't send out more search parties because he found out that the princess isn't really his daughter.”

That got Varian's attention. “So who's her father, then?”

She shrugged, eyeing a couple of flower wreaths. “Who knows? Maybe a duke? Somebody from one of the other kingdoms? Or maybe a ten-foot-tall monster man?”

“Okay, that seems a little wild,” he snorted as she tied a wreath into her ponytail.

Jun picked out a matching one and fixed it in his hair. “Or is it just wild enough?”

“Alright,” Quirin said, shaking his head at them with a smile. “We’ll buy those, too.”

The two of them tore out of the flower shop as soon as the money was exchanged, a small cluster of lilacs in each hand. The sun was just starting to set over the horizon, reminding them that there wasn’t much time left before they’d have to prepare to release their lanterns. As if all thinking the same thing, a crowd of what looked like half the kingdom had congregated, almost completely blocking the shrine for the royal family. The children skillfully navigated the mass of people, laying their flowers in front of the mosaic depicting the king, queen, and baby princess.

“See?” Jun pointed out, placing the lilacs among the other offerings. “She doesn’t look anything like the king.”

Varian sniggered, trying to cover her mouth with his hands as they raced back to Quirin’s side. His dad knelt down to adjust the flower crown on the boy’s head. “All set, you two?”

They nodded, both of them practically bouncing on their toes.

“Great. Juniper, I think your parents are saving us a spot near the docks.”

* * *

The sun had almost nearly set by the time they found the other two adults waving them over from a street corner. Cyrus had the art supplies fanned out before him, nearly finished with their lantern, while Martina sat next to him with her feet stretched out and hair free from its bun.

“Aw man,” Jun whined. “I wanted to help make it.”

Cyrus chuckled. “Sorry, kids. I got so excited, I couldn’t help myself. You can still help me light it, though!”

The lantern was a little crooked, like it wasn't sure if it wanted to be a square or tube shape. Inside, there was almost three times as much wiring around the candle as there needed to be. But on the outside, Martina had painted a marvelous design of tree branches and suns along the paper shell, leaving Jun in complete awe.

“It's so neat, sir!” Varian piped up, sitting down on the stone road. “I bet it's gonna fly higher than anyone else’s!”

Quirin withdrew a small matchbox from his pocket. “Here, Varian, let me teach you how to light it.”

“Thanks, Dad,” he replied. “Hey, I just read about where the flame comes from when you strike a match…”

As she listened attentively to Varian’s explanation, Jun felt a hand on her shoulder. She twisted around and saw both of her parents looking back at her with concern.

“Your mother told me about what happened at the art shop,” Cyrus remarked. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jun glanced down at her lap, wringing her hands. The last thing she wanted to do was come across as ungrateful.

“It's all right, Juniper dear,” Martina said soothingly, running a hand through her daughter's hair. “You don't have to if you don't want to. You’re not in trouble.”

She turned this over in her mind for a few minutes, watching her friend and his dad try again and again to keep the fire going. Over by the harbor, Jun watched a well-dressed teenager and her little brother struggling to do the same thing. Just as the younger one was about to give up, his sister whipped out a small, handheld contraption that seemed to produce a flame instantly, lighting their lantern with a grand flourish.

Jun sighed. “It's just that everything comes so easily to people here. It doesn't seem fair, our village is only a carriage ride away from here. It feels like I have no chance of catching up to them.”

“Did I ever tell you how I got my first job?” said Cyrus, cutting off her self-deprecating rhetoric.

Folding her hands over her belly, Martina let out a titter of a laugh as he started to retell the old story.

“So I was about seventeen when this took place,” he began. “Me and my old friend Emory had been job-searching for weeks when we heard about this merchant from Equis setting up a pawn shop in town. So we went in, thinking we had nothing to lose. Two boys, no money, barely any spare clothes, crammed into this dingy apartment above the worst bar in town.

“Emory went in and applied first. The owner hired him on the spot as a stock boy. So I waited a couple days before going in, hoping maybe I'd get the same job.”

“And did you?” Jun asked hopefully.

“No dice. _I only need one stock boy_ , the owner said. So I was about to walk out and try my luck somewhere else. Then he said to me, _But I sure could use someone keeping track of the deposit. Know anything about money, boy?_

“Junebug, I didn't know a gold piece from a bronze. But I told him I absolutely did, sir, and he told me I could start the next day. You know what I was good at, though? Memorizing. I memorized the cost of every single thing in that shop and made it work for three years until the pawn shop got big enough that we needed two people working on the deposit. Then you know what I did? I paid the new girl to teach me how to count the money.

“So there you have it. I took a job where I met just about none of the qualifications, and why? Because I wanted that job and a life for myself more than anyone.”

He took his daughter's hands in his, intense, burning amber eyes meeting an identical pair. “So I'm asking you, Junebug,” he said, almost solemnly, “is this city the kind of life you want?”

“Cyrus, she's only ten,” Martina commented, the corners of her mouth twitching to hide a grin.

“I just want to hear what she says.”

Jun squirmed, spreading her skirt out in front of her and eyes flitting every which way. “I’d like to be able to learn to read, if I want,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “And it’d be nice if Mom didn't have to patch my clothes every time they ripped. I guess...it'd be pretty neat to live somewhere like here someday.”

The fire in his eyes simmered into a warm gleam and he pulled her into a fierce hug. “Then you reach for it,” he murmured. “Take what you know and build off it, and chase after that life as fast as your two feet can carry you. And just know we'll be there for you whenever you stumble.”

As she hugged her dad back, Jun thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

“It's the king and queen!” Varian cheered, pointing at a lone yellow light floating into the still night sky. “They sent up their lantern!”

Quirin smiled, holding up their own. “Looks like we finished this just in time.”

The kids scrambled to their feet, each holding half of the glowing lantern. More and more lights filled the sky, drifting over the harbor and making it look almost as bright as daytime.

“You ready?” Jun asked.

Varian nodded, too focused on maintaining the candle’s balance.

“Okay, on three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three!” they yelled, gently lifting the lantern in the air and letting the wind carry it out of their hands. It made a beeline towards the water, and for a minute Jun thought that would be the end of it. But at the last possible second, a breeze picked it up and sent it farther out to sea. Awestruck, they watched it fly even higher until it eventually joined the rest of them miles away.

“Okay, here's the plan,” Varian finally said as the night gradually returned. “Let’s say they _do_ find the lost princess. If my theory is right, you give me two bronze pieces. I’ll give you two pieces if one of your crazy ideas is right. Wanna bet on it?”

Jun looked skeptical. “You know, we might both be wrong.”

“Then we won't lose anything, will we?”

There was a mischievous glint in his eye as he held out his pinky finger. She smirked, curling her finger around his. “Deal.”

* * *

The muscles in Jun's thigh were screaming at her to slow down. She didn't care; there was no time to lose when it came to news this big.

As soon as the carriage had let her off after work, she’d taken off as quickly as she could towards her village—which was more of a steady trot than a run. Any reports from the castle usually took a day or so to reach Old Corona, so Jun was certain she was the first person in the entire area who knew the story.

And she knew exactly who she needed to tell first.

She scaled the lofty stairs, briefly stopping to catch her breath before beating on the wooden double doors as hard as possible.

“Varian!” she shouted, unconcerned with the fact that she was probably disturbing the entire block. “Varian, open up!”

She kept banging until the door finally swung open, Varian peering at her through his mask with a glass beaker in hand.

“Shh, my dad’s sleeping!” the fourteen-year-old hissed. He gently closed the door behind him and stared at her with his arms folded.

Jun snickered. “Sorry, it’s hard to take you seriously with that mask on. Have you noticed how deep it makes your voice sound?”

He yanked off the mask with a huff, his face red and sweaty from wearing it for so long. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” he griped. “Now what is it you wanted to tell me?”

Rocking on her foot in excitement, she could hardly contain herself. “You’ll never guess who turned up at the castle this morning.”

Varian rubbed his eyes, fatigued from whatever experiment he’d been conducting before she arrived. “Doctor St. Croix?”

He was suddenly dragged down so her mouth was right against his ear.

“Here’s a hint: you owe me two bronze pieces.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are lovely but comments are nicer!
> 
> My inbox is always open at thefatesdesign.tumblr.com, if you'd like to drop by!


	6. In and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Varian doesn't notice things and unpleasant memories resurface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey, guys! I'm gonna drop a warning here that this chapter includes a bit of disturbing content, including a character experiencing PTSD and a panic attack. Read at your own risk, dears! As usual, if I got anything horribly wrong on the medical front here, feel free to let me know!

_THWACK!_

Martina gave another satisfying strike to the rug in her backyard. Despite her petite frame, it arced magnificently in the air from the force of her swings. She hoped those prying neighbors were watching, after overhearing them last week making jabs about looking tired for her age.

“Need any help?”

She turned around to see her husband sitting on the front stoop, waving to her while munching on an apple.

“No need,” she replied, breathless. “It’s therapeutic for me.”

Nearly knocking it off the clothesline with one final blow, she ran a hand over her sweaty face and trudged over to sit next to him.

Cyrus held out the rest of the apple for her, which she declined. “I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that beater. Penny for your thoughts?”

She sighed, pulling out her hair bun that was half-falling out anyway.

“I haven’t had to do this for a while, you know.”

“You’re right, that’s what we had a kid for,” he commented, sneaking a peek back inside the house. “Where is our pride and joy today? At work?”

“Quirin’s son called her away again,” she muttered, nails digging into her skirt. “He said it was urgent.”

He smiled knowingly. “He has a name, dearest. We’ve known him for years now.”

“Have we?”

“Martina…”

“What? I just think it's strange that this boy disappears from our daughter's life and then showed up again years later, when she was just starting to make a life for herself.” She squinted at a crow picking at her bimberry bushes. The bird noticed her watching and stared her down in response.

Cyrus chuckled. “Funny, and here I thought you never liked her job at the castle.”

“I don't,” she said abruptly. “I think it was too hasty of an arrangement and far too political for a first job. But spending all her free time with the village menace is even more dangerous.”

“Menace? Don’t you think that might be a little much?” he protested. “He’s only a kid, after all.”

“You weren’t there last week,” Martina fretted, twisting the handle of the carpet beater in her hands. “I was less than fifty feet away when that boy blew a hole in Quirin’s shed. There was wood and brick flying every which way and fumes that smelled like they could melt you from the inside out. I’m telling you, he’s going to get himself or someone else killed.”

Cyrus shook his head, throwing away the apple core and standing to remove the mat from the clothesline. “I think you’re selling Juniper short, my dear. She has a good head on her shoulders, and she was always the one reeling him in when they were little. I think it’s good for both of them that they’re hanging out again.”

He handed his wife one frayed end, and together they folded the sizable fabric where the corners met.

“I just don't want to see her hurt, Cyrus,” she said quietly, pressing the rug to her stomach. “Not again. And now she hardly speaks to me, let alone listens.”

“She's a teenager,” he answered with a shrug. “And you have to admit you’ve been more than a little critical of every decision she's made for the past few years.”

“It only took one bad decision—”

“—to put her where she is now.” Cyrus rolled his eyes. “You keep saying that, and every time she’s gone above and beyond what we expected of her. You're not going to be able to protect her from everything, Martina, so you might as well start trusting her.”

She shot a suspicious glare towards the house at the end of the street. The one that seemed to tower over the others, compared to the cottages and farmhouses that made up most of Old Corona, expelling a constant stream of oddly-colored smoke from its chimney.

“It's not her I don't trust.”

* * *

 “Okay, we’re almost there,” Varian’s voice chirped. Both of his hands were curled around her forearms as he carefully led her down the steps.

Jun barked out an uneasy laugh. The blindfold covering her eyes was starting to slide down, but the cellar stairwell remained as dark as ever. “I just found something I hate more than using stairs. Using stairs when I can't see.”

“It’ll be worth it, I promise!” he said brightly. “I’m actually really proud of how this turned out, and I've been wanting your opinion on it all week.”

He pulled her around a corner, releasing her wrists to open a door in front of them.

“Gah!”

She could hear a scuffle and some chittering that definitely wasn't human.

“Another raccoon get in?” Jun guessed.

“Yup.” Varian sounded much farther away. “I think I left the window open last night. My bad.”

She felt him come up behind her and take her by the shoulders as he guided her the rest of the way in.

“And...ta-dah!”

At once, the blindfold was stripped away and Jun blinked, not sure what she was seeing in the dim light. Two massive copper tanks were crammed against the wall, pressure gauges twitching as they sent a small trickle of steam out a nearby window. A heavy steel box was set up in the middle of the cellar, covered in levers and connected by several pipes and tubes to what looked like a table with a patchy tarp draped over it. Off to the side, there was a worn printing press sitting on a lone wooden chair. Jun gaped as the thirteen-year-old bounced from one end of the room to the other, gesturing wildly at his work.

“It took forever to get all the scrap metal I needed to get this engine going,” Varian chattered. “But Dad said the king gave his approval for the village to get new farm equipment and I couldn’t just let all the old stuff go to waste. Once I had all of that assembled, the console was a piece of cake. And you won’t _believe_ how I managed to hook it all up to the spectrometric press, it’s really quite fascinating…”

Jun’s eyes flickered from one machine to another as he rambled on, tugging on a strand of hair and trying to ignore the wave of nerves threatening to burn a hole in her stomach. _It's okay_ , she assured herself, _they're just hunks of metal. Nothing to worry about. They're not even turned on, for goodness’ sake._

“So what do you think?” Varian cut in, suddenly appearing in front of her and making her jump. “Pretty neat, right?”

“It's, ah…impressive,” she stuttered, her voice sounding higher than she’d care to admit. “What does all of it do?”

He beamed. “I'm glad you asked. If I did it right, this machine should be able to determine the chemical makeup of any organic matter I hook up to it.”

Jun delicately prodded at the doctored-up printing press, which seemed the most harmless of the devices in the room. “You built all of this?” she asked, mesmerized. Then she took in what exactly he’d said. “What do you mean, 'should?’”

With a nervous giggle, Varian rubbed the back of his neck, his gloves leaving behind a black grease mark. “Well, theoretically speaking, of course,” he explained, looking at her sheepishly. “I, uh, haven't exactly tested it out a whole lot. That's...kinda why I need you.”

Something lurched in her gut. Jun did her best to squash it down and forced a smile at him. “Oh, do you need me to pull a lever for you or something?” she asked, her shoulders tensing.

This wasn't out of the ordinary. He’d asked her for help with his experiments many times before. Most of them only involved holding a glass for him while he measured some unknown chemical and told her that it wouldn't blow up in their faces. _Why would this be any different?_

“It's a little more elaborate than that,” he replied, pulling a small notebook from his apron and flipping through the pages. “I need something to analyze. I tried a few plants and got some...mixed results.”

Jun couldn't understand his notes, but she spied a few doodles of what were clearly flames in the margins. She winced.

“But I'm about eighty-three percent sure I know where I went wrong,” he continued. “Mostly needed to replace some faulty tubing and leaky pipes. So it should be completely safe for you.”

“Wait, you’re asking me to be a _t_ _est_ _subject_?”

She felt her heart jump into her throat, that nervous energy returning to coil inside her like a spring.

“No, that's not it,” he explained, quickly backtracking. “At least, not all of you. I was thinking of starting small, with something I already know the composition of. But I can't analyze myself and record my research at the same time.” Varian looked at her, eyes pleading.

Jun pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling sharply a few times. “If you say it's safe,” she said slowly, “I suppose we can give it a shot.”

“Great!” he exclaimed, a wide, toothy grin on his face. He scurried to the console, popping open a compartment on the side and tugging out a series of metal clamps and wires. One end was secured to the printing press, which was promptly placed on the floor. Scooting the chair closer, he gestured to Jun. “Have a seat.”

She did, with a firm grasp on her antimony necklace in an attempt to distract herself from her racing heartbeat. Varian didn't seem to notice any of this, circling around her with a hand to his chin.

“Most parts of the body are composed of a ton of things,” he thought out loud. “And the more ingredients there are, the longer we’ll have to wait for results.”

Just as Jun was starting to feel uncomfortable with his staring, his eyebrows shot up.

“How about your fingernails?”

She exhaled, letting out a breath she forgot she’d been holding. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

Varian wasted no time attaching clamps to the tips of her left fingers and scribbling notes in his book. He darted back to the console, fiddling with a few of the wires and making sure everything was all set. Finally, he nodded at her.

“Are you ready for this?”

Drumming her clamped fingers on the arm of the chair, Jun could feel the nervous spring beginning to unwind, replaced with a sense of exhilaration. This wouldn’t be so bad. If this machine worked, who could say what else was possible for her eccentric friend and his ideas?

“Let’s do it.”

The machine gave a low hum in response. Immediately, there was a tingling in her hand as Varian swiftly started pulling levers and flipping switches. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was enough to keep Jun on high alert and her body perfectly still. She tried to focus on keeping her breathing even, but couldn’t stop herself from casting worried glances in his direction.

Varian paid her no mind; he was completely in his element, turning dials with his right hand and furiously jotting data down with his left. She could see his lips moving non-stop, almost trance-like, as he worked through calculations from his head to paper. The steam spewing from the tanks caused his hair to fluff out, making him look more like a mad scientist than usual.

_DING!_

She nearly jumped out of her skin, whipping her head around to watch the printing press at his feet. A roll of results began to spill out onto the floor, covered in numbers correlating to the math her friend had done.

“Okay!” Varian called, raising his voice so he could be heard over the hum of the machine. “We’re all done. I'm gonna turn it off now.”

His invention powered down and Jun felt the tingling sensation peter out from her fingers, replaced with a strange stiffness. Varian removed the clamps, carefully inspecting her for any side effects.

“The feeling should come back in a bit,” he stated, taking her hand and gently pressing down on the knuckles. Jun closed her digits into a fist and extended them a couple of times, frowning at how slack her grip was now.

“Never mind that,” she said, waving him off. “What does the specto-thing say?”

Varian tore the paper from the printing press as soon as it was finished and held it up to his notebook as a reference.

“Let's see,” he muttered, scanning the page. “‘Keratin, a protein mostly comprised of the amino acids alanine, arginine, cysteine, glycine…’”

He rattled off the rest of the ingredients at an impossible speed, his blue eyes getting wider and crooked smile even more pronounced.

“This is _perfect_.”

“Is it?” Jun tried to peer over his shoulder at the paper. “So that means…”

“It works!” he cheered, flinging his arms out and spinning around. “Oh gosh, this is huge! Think of the doors a breakthrough like this could open! If I make a few adjustments, maybe I could analyze inorganic materials too! The possibilities are _endless_!”

He came down from his reverie and turned his attention towards Jun. His grin was almost manic with enthusiasm.

“Can we try it again?”

And there was the catch. She froze, still seated, that nervous energy spiking again in full force. “With my other hand?” she asked hopefully.

He gave a snort, shaking his head. “That's just gonna give me the same answers. I was thinking we could go bigger.”

Circling her once more, Varian was much quicker for inspiration the second time.

“Got it! Let's try your hair next!”

Jun’s hands instinctively flew up, pulling any loose curls out of his reach.

“My hair?” she questioned, trying to laugh it off. “Wouldn't it be more interesting to study _yours_?”

He touched his own, considering the curiously natural teal streak for a moment. “Maybe after I upgrade it,” he decided. “For now, yours will do just fine.”

She could feel the color draining from her face. Meanwhile, Varian was already bounding to the console and withdrawing more wires, dramatically sweeping back the blanket covering the final apparatus in the cellar.

Underneath the tarp was an old medical pallet that the thirteen-year-old had modified. Numerous leather belts had been tailored in, marking where the test subject’s torso and limbs were meant to be. Laying where one’s head would go was a metal hoop, which was where Varian proceeded to connect the wires.

“Go on, make yourself comfortable,” he said, grabbing a screwdriver and tightening a few bolts on the band.

Jun gingerly laid a hand on the stretcher; it seemed sturdy enough. But it did nothing to ease her clammy, trembling fingers.

“Varian, I don't know—”

“Oh, don't worry, it's perfectly safe. Hair is actually made of the same protein as your nails, so the procedure should be pretty similar.”

“That's not what I'm saying—”

“Would you mind taking off your leg?”

She stopped short. “W-what?”

“It's just that there's a lot of metal in your leg,” he went on, “I don't wanna risk it messing with the results.”

There was no way she was getting through to him. Varian was in a tunnel, with nowhere to look but ahead in his pursuit of knowledge. She sighed; he _did_ assure her that it was safe.

“...fine.”

Slowly undoing the harness around her hips and thigh, Jun suddenly felt very exposed as she lowered herself onto the stretcher. Her last chance at walking away from this was gone as Varian leaned her prosthesis against the console, out of her line of vision.

“This way, I don't even need to strap you in all the way,” he joked, starting at the belt under her left ankle. Legs, wrists, arms, torso—Varian’s hands nimbly tightened each of the belts, sliding the wired band over her head and letting it rest just above her hairline.

“Is all of this really necessary?” she asked, cringing inwardly at how squeaky she sounded.

He called back to her as he returned to his place at the console, his tone as serious as a heart attack. “Jun, any and all precautions are necessary in the name of science.”

With that, he yanked his goggles over his eyes with an audible snap, turned a few dials as far clockwise as they would go, and pulled the main lever once again.

The violent roar from the engine was nearly deafening, sending the entire house into a rattle. Rather than a mildly unpleasant tingle, Jun could feel the headband practically vibrating against her skin, a harsh ringing pitch emanating from it that seemed to completely bypass her ears and shoot directly into her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself to stay calm.

_It's noise, that's all it is. Nothing's wrong, everything's going to be fi—_

She felt a sharp twinge in her leg, a horrible cramping that started at her toes and worked its way up her calf. Her right calf. Jun tried to shake it off but the belt held her down fast. It would be of no use anyway; the rational part of her mind knew that if she looked down to find the source of the pain, she’d see nothing. Just as she had for the last five years.

Merely thinking about it seemed to make the pain worse; it was like a thousand needles were sticking into her. Jun strained to look in her friend's direction but could hardly see him through the steam the tanks continued to belch out.

“Varian?”

“Just a couple more seconds!”

She could hear him laughing—a boyish, uninhibited sound that bore no intention of cutting his experiment short. Her chest tightened as the laughter blended in with the rest of the din, until it all became static in her ears. She couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't even feel the belts digging into her anymore…

* * *

  _“O_ _h god, it’s Juniper!”_

_“Cyrus, help me turn this thing off!”_

_“She’s hurt! It looks real bad, someone call a doctor!”_

_“We need to get her out of here. Son, you need to go home right now.”_

_“Dad? What's going on?”_

_“I said now, Varian!”_

_“It's okay, Juniper, it's all going to be fine…”_

* * *

 “Jun? Jun, open your eyes! Please!”

She felt two hands shaking her shoulders and jerked awake, staring directly into a pair of anxious blue eyes. If she hadn’t still been lying down, she would have tried to move away from them. All at once, pain shot through her limb again, more intense than before. Jun gripped her knee, sitting up and making the boy step back. He held out a shaky hand to take hers.

“Are you hu—?”

“No!” Jun cried out. When had her throat become so sore? Her ragged voice was almost a snarl as she flung out an arm to keep him at bay. “Don’t help me!”

Varian shrank back, keeping his hands in front of him as if he was calming a wild animal. Fear and guilt filled his eyes as he watched his best friend curled into a ball, her features screwed up in a pained grimace. “D-do you want me to get your parents?”

“No, no!” The last thing she wanted was her mother storming in and sending the whole street into an uproar.

He was starting to panic. “What do you want me to _do_?”

“Just…”

Her breath was coming out in gasps. She felt dizzy; her mind was swimming as she fought to recall what her doctor told her to do in these situations. Something involving a mirror? She couldn't remember.

“You’re hyperventilating,” he said softly. “You need to breathe, Jun. Come on, in and out.”

 _In and out._ She tried to match his slow, even breaths. _In through the nose, out through the mouth._

As she continued to breathe deeply, she felt a hand rubbing lightly on her back. Rather than shying away like before, she allowed herself to lean into it, the sensation jogging her memory.

 _Mirror therapy_ , Dr. Heinze had explained years ago. _It doesn’t work on everyone, but it’s a method used to alleviate phantom pain. Even without a mirror, treating your remaining limb as your absent one may help. For example, clenching your fist when you’re missing a hand can release the tension in your phantom hand. It all depends on how your brain reacts, of course._

Reaching down to her remaining leg, Jun pressed on it lightly. She moved her thumb in firm circles, kneading the muscles in the same areas she felt in her phantom limb—she never liked the term “absent limb.” It sounded like her leg was out sick for the day but would be back tomorrow. Next, she tried extending her foot, pointing her toes out as far as they would go. Little by little, the discomfort subsided into a dull ache and she could breathe normally again.

“...what happened?” she whispered, pulling herself into an upright position. Varian cautiously sat down on the pallet next to her.

He fidgeted with his gloves. “You were screaming,” he mumbled, eyes cast down in his lap. “You told me to turn it off. When I removed the belts, you were still shaking and pushing me away. Like you had no idea where you were.”

Jun swallowed hard. She hadn't had an episode like this in quite a while, and thankfully the ones she'd had were with her parents. They understood. But to be in such a weak state in front of her friend…

“It's humiliating,” she said at last. “I’ve been like this ever since the accident. Any machine that's bigger than me makes me... uneasy. It's worse when they make a lot of noise. I thought—it’d been a while since the last time this happened, so I-I thought I could handle it. I'm sorry you had to see me that way.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” he responded, turning to face her. “I should have known that...jeez, it's not like you were _hiding_ how upset you were. I was only thinking about myself.”

He laid a hand over hers, the one that was starting to regain the feeling in it from his first experiment.

“Jun, don't ever feel like you need to explain yourself to me. You're my best friend. And I know I can't even begin to understand everything you went through, but I still want to be there for you. And—” He looked a little glum. “—if that means you can't help me with my projects anymore, I get it.”

Leaning her head on Varian's shoulder, she sighed. “I don't want you to cut me out of the loop entirely,” she said, hugging herself, “but would it be okay if I took a break? I'd still love to help with your alchemy and all. But these inventions might be a little much for me right now.”

He smiled, winding an arm around her side. “Sure, take as long as you need. I’ll still be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are lovely but comments are nicer!
> 
> My inbox is always open at thefatesdesign.tumblr.com, if you'd like to drop by!


	7. Expo-diting The Situation, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a science fair leads to a romantic spark and the appearance of an old flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It's been a while, dear readers! Sorry it took so long, but I got terribly busy in a show and overall had a lack of motivation during it. I'd hoped to get this done before season 2 started up, but sadly it wasn't meant to be. Now that my inspiration is back, I'm pleased to bring you part one of a familiar, well-loved episode. Part two is well on its way, and will be a bit longer than this (I just couldn't find a better way to split it). I do hope you enjoy!

“Alright, son,” Quirin ordered, “is the cart set?”

Varian grasped the handle tightly, ready to roll the wooden slab forward at his father's signal. He squinted up at the sky, the morning sun just barely skirting over the horizon. “You sure I can't help you with that, Dad?” he asked, suppressing a yawn. “It’s pretty heavy.”

“It’s fine. We’ve got enough manpower between the two of us.” Quirin secured his grip on the tarp-covered cargo and peered around it. “Are you ready to lift?”

Jun poked her head out from the other end. “Ready, sir!”

Varian sucked in his cheeks. It was bad enough that he had to wake up so early in the morning—especially since he’d fallen asleep late last night while putting the finishing touches on his invention. Now it was just plain embarrassing that he couldn’t even help with packing up said invention.

“Plant your feet really well and don't let go,” Quirin instructed. “And _up_!”

There was a groan from both of them as they hoisted the contraption up, the ends of the tarp hanging half a foot from the ground.

“A little higher, Juniper.” Quirin’s voice was straining from the weight.

She gritted her teeth, digging her heels into the dirt and managing to raise her end a few more inches. A grinding noise resonated in the air, whether coming from the machine or her prosthesis Varian couldn't tell.

“That's it,” Quirin grunted. “Varian, push!”

The fourteen-year-old quickly obeyed, shoving his cart underneath just as the other two were beginning to lose their grip on the device. It rested on the wood with an unsettling creak.

“That ought to do it,” Jun said brightly, casually checking her leg. “Looks like you’re all ready for the fair, then?”

“Science exposition,” Varian corrected her.

She rolled her eyes. “Your gathering of nerds.”

“That’s some big talk coming from the one who squealed when she got to touch five hundred thread count linen.”

“Touché,” she replied, poking him in the shoulder with a greasy finger.

Quirin let out a chuckle. “Be safe, you two. Juniper, make sure he stays out of trouble today.”

“You be careful too,” Varian piped up, pushing his machine onto the main road. “I saw those weird rocks were starting to crop up pretty close to the eastern fields.”

He smiled thinly. “I’m sure we can handle a few extra rocks, son.”

“But Dad, these aren’t—”

“You should probably head out. Don’t want to make Juniper late for work, do we?”

The smile was still on his face as he said this, but Varian could feel himself shrinking back from his father’s steely gaze. Quirin was unyielding; it was one thing when the subject was brought up at home. But he had no desire to acknowledge this issue out in the open and the young alchemist knew it. His hands clenched, vice-like, around the cart’s handle, until he felt a reassuring squeeze on his elbow.

“Thank you, sir,” Jun graciously cut in, her genial tone conveying only the utmost respect for their village’s leader. “We’ll be on our way, then.”

She gave a final wave goodbye, guiding her friend down the path until they could see Quirin's back was turned.

“You think it would’ve killed him to wish me luck?” Varian mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. When he’d mentioned the expo the night before, Quirin had seemed disinterested at best and outright agitated at worst. After the incident involving his water-heating machines under Old Corona, its residents had been shaken for weeks while they did their best to repair the damages. Even now, Varian was still getting dirty looks from the neighbors as he wheeled his cart past them, whispers of “endangering the princess” floating past his ears. In the end, his father had reluctantly allowed him to participate, so long as the boy agreed to accompany Jun to the capital city and not cause her or the rest of the castle staff any grief.

“Maybe if you hadn’t brought up the whole rock thing,” Jun suggested, her posture slouching as they got farther away from home.

“But I still don’t get it,” he protested. “These aren’t like anything I’ve read about before. They don’t behave like rocks at all. Rocks grow, but it takes years for there to be a noticeable change in size. These just sort of…”

“Sprout?” she said thoughtfully. “And they cluster around each other, almost like weeds.”

Varian nodded. “And they’re getting closer to Old Corona. You’d think that would make my dad at least a _little_ concerned.”

Even Jun had been skeptical when he'd first taken her to see them at the edge of town. She was quick to change her mind, however, when a fresh spike began jutting from the ground mere inches from her foot, causing her to jump back and mutter something about magic. Varian had laughed at the time; these rocks were a geological marvel, but probably nothing science couldn't explain. That was two weeks ago, and despite his tireless research, the scientist still had nothing to show for it.

“Well, he’s not the type to show when something’s worrying him,” she sighed. “My dad’s like that too, but it’s more because _everything_ worries my mom.”

He felt his mouth twitch up into a smile. “Yeah, I bet she took it real well when you told her I was coming with you to work.”

“She didn't say a word about it,” she replied, snickering. “But I noticed a new gash in the kitchen counter near the knife drawer. She says it was an accident, of course.”

Varian cringed, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Remind me to steer clear of your mom when she has anything pointy.”

“I wouldn't worry too much about her,” Jun said, giving him a playful nudge. “Or your dad, for that matter. I bet he’ll be impressed when you win first prize today, anyway.”

He nudged her back, biting his lip and stealing an anxious peek under the tarp. He knew he was psyching himself out; the Re-Mogrifier looked the same as ever.

“You really think I'm going to win?”

“Are you kidding?” She looked baffled, shifting her knapsack from one shoulder to the other. “You’re a complete shoe-in! Who else in Corona can say they made a whole new element?”

Varian didn't care how comically his teeth stuck out, he was smiling so wide. For the rest of their walk to the carriage stop, he had a certain spring in his step, forgetting how tired and nervous he was before.

The carriage driver wasn't very keen on hitching the cart to the back of his cab, but after a bit of coaxing from the teens, he agreed to take them part of the way. He dropped off the two of them a couple of miles from the capital city’s bridge with hardly a glance. By the time they approached the bridge, Jun had insisted on switching their loads before Varian passed out from exhaustion. He felt his morale take a slight nosedive as he lugged his friend’s bag while she pushed the Re-Mogrifier like it was nothing.

“Oh don't worry,” she said. “You can have it back when we get to the castle. I know who you’re _r_ _eally_ trying to impress.”

Varian would have been flustered if she wasn’t wiggling her eyebrows so ridiculously. He fought to repress a giggle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why you’re showing off your new element, Quirinium.”

“ _Juuuuuun_ ,” he whined. There was a blush forming around the tips of his ears and traveling down to his neck.

She gave a rather inelegant snort. “Look, it's not like I have any issue with you having crushes and relationships, but couldn't your first be someone a little more attainable?”

Varian turned up his chin. “You just don't get it,” he explained, as if he were the older of the two. It wasn't her fault, she's just never experienced that strange chemical reaction currently going on in his brain that made him want to dedicate his expo entry to the lady-in-waiting. “Cassie went out of her way to save me, even when the princess was in trouble. That has to _mean_ something, right?”

“Or it could mean she has a strong sense of duty, and didn't want to see a kid get hurt?” Jun frowned, smoothing a few strands of hair into her braided chignon as they drew closer to the castle. “I'm rooting for you, I swear, it's just that I've never known Cassandra to be interested in dating. Not once, during the whole time I've worked here. Plus, you _do_ realize you’ve only met her once, right?”

“We’re  _f_ _riends_ ,” he insisted, overlooking the “kid” jab. He was a man of science, not pettiness. “And so are Flynn and Rapunzel. Once she sees what the Re-Mogrifier can do, she’ll start seeing me differently, just you wait.”

Her amber eyes flicked past him as the duo made their way through the exposition's venue, suddenly thrusting the cart's handle back into his hands.

“Well, you're in luck,” Jun said, taking back her knapsack in a hurry and pulling out a small mirror to check her face. “There's Miss Attainable herself. Up there, in the blue dress.”

The alchemist searched the crowd eagerly, trying to find her. At last, he spied a familiar figure on a ladder who was hanging a impressive banner that proudly bore the words “Exposition of Sciences.” He felt his heart miss a few beats. Cassandra looked just as incredible in her handmaiden outfit as she did in her tunic, the sunlight catching its pale blue color so perfectly she almost glowed. He grinned, turning back to Jun, who was rubbing at a stubborn grease stain on her temple. “How do I look?”

“Smart but overwhelmed,” she answered, wiping a smudge from his cheek until she was satisfied. “Now give me a hug, I gotta go.”

“Thanks again,” he said as he hastily pulled her in. “You’re gonna watch me present too, right?”

Jun stepped back from the hug, beaming at him. “You know I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

In the blink of an eye, he felt the last cloud of apprehension over him evaporate. Her words were corny, but her smile was nothing but supportive. No matter what, he knew Jun would be there to pick up the slack when his own confidence wavered.

“Now go, go talk to her!”

Varian blinked and his friend seemed to vanish into the mass of people. _Wow, she's gotten fast. She must be later for work than she thought_. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his knees from knocking together as he wheeled his cart over to Cassandra.

“Who’s ready for the expo?!”

* * *

Jun kept up her brisk pace, not looking back until she breezed through the castle doors. She felt bad for leaving her friend so abruptly, but it felt like there was no other choice. Of all people, she didn't expect _him_ to be helping at the expo today. With any luck, she'd managed to get inside without being noticed.

 _He’ll understand_ , she thought. _He always does. As long as I’m there when he presents, it’ll be perfect._

“Hey, Jun!”

The voice was bright, lilting, and carried with it a throaty accent the speaker was attempting to smooth over. It made Jun want to bash her head against a wall. Taking a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face and turned toward her greeter.

“Warren,” she said tightly, “I didn't see you there.”

That was a bold-faced lie. With his long, lanky figure, he’d always towered over the crowd. Now, standing in full guard attire with the shiny plumed helmet perched on his head, he was starting to strongly resemble a lighthouse.

As if suddenly feeling insecure about it, Warren removed the helmet and ran a hand through his unruly, caramel-brown curls. He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, it's been a while since we last talked, hasn't it?”

“Mm-hm.” _Seven months and nine days_. She wished it could’ve been longer.

“It's crazy how we barely see each other when we both work at the castle.” His laugh was far too forced and high-pitched; Jun never understood how a guard-in-training could allow himself to get so easily flustered.

“Yeah, it is.” As she slowly edged in the direction of the servants’ quarters, she could only hope Warren would take the hint.

“Right, you're probably running late, aren't you?”

 _Thank_ _goodness_. She did her best to hide her sigh of relief. “I am, I'm really sorry.”

Warren awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, making a move to put his helmet back on. “No, no, it's fine. I should get back to my rounds, anyway.”

“That expo isn't going to guard itself,” she joked.

“Oh, speaking of!” Snapping his fingers, his thick eyebrows raised as if an idea suddenly occurred to him.

 _Here we go_ , Jun cursed herself as Warren gave her those imploring brown eyes. _Why does he have to be such a charmer?_

“Is it possible I’ll...see you there later?”

Jun wanted to sink into the floor. They were the same eyes that, months ago, made her think, “Sure, one date couldn’t hurt.” She averted her own, trying not to get swept up in that dazzling gaze again. No doubt he’d been planning to ask her all week. _Stand your ground, Jun. Don't be a pushover_.

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to avoid. Maybe?” It disgusted her, how easily she folded like a deck of cards.

Meanwhile, Warren’s face lit up like a toddler at Monty’s shop. “Great! It's, uh, really nice to see you again, Jun. Let me know if I can help you with anything.”

That was the cue to go. With a small half-nod, she turned on her heel and power-walked toward Friedborg’s room, feeling her rigid smile drop faster than a lead weight. She didn’t even wait for her mentor to answer the door, practically flying in after knocking and making a beeline for her chair behind the old sewing machine.

Friedborg had her nose buried in eight different sketches, each with a slight variation of the gown that was posed on Queen Arianna's dress form. She slowly turned her head, giving Jun a curious stare.

“Sorry, ma’am,” she said breathlessly, plopping herself down in her seat. “I know I'm late. I got a little...held up.”

As usual, the queen's lady-in-waiting said nothing. Instead, she cast her eyes at a towering pile of stained and ripped guard uniforms, indicating what her apprentice was assigned to do for the morning.

Jun felt her stomach turn over from the stench; clearly none of the guards thought washing was a priority before bringing their clothes to be repaired. She was sure she could see physical methane fumes wafting off of them.

 _Methane? Jeez, this science expo’s making a nerd out of me._ She shook her head, laughing to herself as she started working through the pile. _He never really got that burn mark out of the kitchen ceiling, did h—_

Friedborg craned her neck toward the door. A few moments later, a light, impatient knock rang through the room. How she managed to predict every time someone was on the other side was something none of the staff had been able to figure out, and frankly it gave them all the more reason to avoid her room altogether. As a result, visitors were a rarity in Jun’s work space.

“I’ll get it,” she called, pacing over to grab the doorknob. _It’s probably Warren double-checking that I’m going to be there later._ She made a face at the thought, but replaced it with her best castle-staff-member- _not_ -servant smile as she looked to see who knocked.

“Yes?”

She was taken aback as Varian stared back at her with his cart in tow, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are lovely but comments are nicer!
> 
> My inbox is always open at thefatesdesign.tumblr.com, if you'd like to drop by!


End file.
